Masquerade
by Rosethorn
Summary: Twelfth Night in Viola's voice. Update and completion April 26th.
1. Act I

Act I

"_And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium."_

- 1.2

My brother is dead.

My brother is dead. It is so hard for me to understand this, still coughing up seawater with sand ground into my skin. I do not _want_ to understand it. He must still be alive, my Sebastian; he too must be lying on a beach somewhere, his hair and hands crusted white with salt as mine are, but alive!

They say it is not so, the sailors. They do not know Sebastian as I do; well, how could they? We who have been together since the very hour of our birth could not be parted, not even by the great and hungry sea. How could he be dead and I living? No, it could not be so. He must be alive somewhere. He must be, and I will cling to that hope as to the ragged spar of wood that bore me up in the storm before the good captain could find me adrift in the swells.

He will not come for me, though. Sebastian--if he is alive, and I must believe that--has no more reason to believe me living than I have to believe him so. He cannot come and find me, here on these lost and rocky shores of Illyria. Heaven only knows where he was cast up. What chance should bring him here? No, it is not possible. I am alone, until...no, unless I can somehow find word of him.

What should I do in Illyria? I, Viola of Messaline, alone with no one to help or protect me beyond the help one good-hearted captain and his men can be. I am a gentlewoman, though, and they merely common sailors, though with kindness above their stations. What should I do in their households? What could they give me beyond shelter?

Here is a gentlewoman's household, one Olivia, the captain tells me. But no, she will not shelter me. Hers is a house in mourning, in mourning for a father and a brother that I too have so recently lost. She is none of my kin, though, none of my family. I cannot claim shelter from her by the bonds of blood. I could serve her. My state is fallen so far that I will not blanch at that. But the captain tells me that she will hear no such requests, will accept no such servants. My choices are few and my time limited.

There is a duke here, the ruler of this land. Orsino.

I have heard his name before. My father used to speak of him often, in approving tones; a good and noble man, he said, a good and just ruler, fair in aspect. He spoke of him in such tones that I was half in love with the duke for quite some time. No longer, of course; grief and upset have erased any such tenderer emotions.

My father would not speak of an unjust man in such terms, though. Were I a man, I could serve this duke and happily, but I am a woman, and must find another way.

...were I a man.

I have oft heard it said that my brother and I are much alike in looks and temper. We were much together in childhood. Our complexions and mannerisms grew to resemble each other, until for a time it could not be said where one began and the other ended. I could be my brother, to survive. I could become a man. Not Sebastian, though. My own sort of man. I could become the sort of man I myself would wish to marry, perhaps, though I will not marry now, unless by some odd chance...but no, I will not hope for Sebastian now. That part of my life is finished, and my brother is lost to me forever, whether living or dead.

I shall become a man, to live, and I shall serve this duke.

"I'll serve this duke. Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him..."


	2. Act II

Act II

"_Yet a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife."_

-1.4

I am the worst kind of fool.

We were to live with cousins, Sebastian and I. We were journeying to them to live after our guardians in Messaline were forced to leave. I should have continued that journey in any way I could. I should have thrown myself on the captain's or the Lady Olivia's mercy, or even the Duke if those had spurned me. I should have begged them to advance me enough money only to carry me safe to my cousins. I should never have attempted this foolish masquerade.

I thought it would be so easy. Had I not been often mistaken for my brother as a child? Could I not wear his clothes, become him as easily as breathing? Surely I could become Cesario as easily—for Cesario was the name I had chosen. How foolish I was! It took barely a day for me to see my error.

For here, surrounded by men, I make mistakes. Even when they expect to see a man, they look at me and blink twice, shake their heads, assure themselves that I am a man. Perhaps it is because I am grown now, and have had a lifetime of being a woman, that it is so difficult for me to step into Cesario's shoes.

I walk differently, talk differently, even sit and eat differently than these men who were raised as boys. I cannot bathe, or shave, or undress in company. I have acquired a reputation for being shy as a woman, for I will not change to my sleeping gown in the quarters I share with four other boys; I insist on wearing my breeches and shirt to bed if I cannot get the privacy I need. I cannot think what I will do when my woman's time comes upon me! The boys think me a strange little lad, this funny new boy in their company.

I have had to watch them unobtrusively, adopt the little tricks and turns that let me fit in more seamlessly. They do not seem to notice the difference now, but in my first day or so here, I received such odd looks...! I think the only reason I am still here, still Cesario in their minds, is because they expect me to be so.

Of course, the only one who does _not_ look at me oddly is the only one I would wish knew who and what I really am.

Orsino.

I was half in love with him before I even met him; I am even deeper in love now. He is all that my father said, and so much more! Handsome, kind, affectionate, gentle, I could go on forever. I could sing his praises until the world burns and the vast, empty sea swallows the ashes.

So _of course_ he is in love, and _of course_ I am not the one that he loves. He _likes_ me, certainly; I am attentive and a good listener, both attributes somewhat lacking in his other attendants. Both qualities expected of a woman, but that is neither here nor there. He does like me, and we are often in company, both a blessing and a curse for me. What is there for me to do?

I cannot comprehend the Lady Olivia. Here is such a man, begging for her love, offering everything he has and is, and she rejects it to mourn instead for a dead brother! I do not condemn her mourning, of course, for I would be the worst sort of hypocrite if I did, I who weep in the silent hours of the night for a brother lost to me. But why should she lock herself away and refuse to live her life? Why should she die herself when it is _he_ who is no longer among the living?

I loved my brother dearly. I still do. But I cannot stop my own heart if his no longer beats. I cannot end my own life when he is lost to me. Woman's heart is soft and malleable, and mine has formed its love upon Orsino. I fear it shall remain ever so, even if I succeed in winning Olivia to his love.

Oh, Sebastian, if you could see your sister now! I have been but four days in Orsino's court.


	3. Act III

Act III

"_As I am woman, what thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?"_

-2.2

Can this tangled knot get any worse? Is it even possible for this situation to become more confused?

Well, some happy events have taken place. I am no longer looked on oddly by the boys I live among. Two months in my lord's court have taught me well how to be a boy, how to move and how to speak so that I no longer betray my womanly origins. Too, my lord shows me ever greater affection and favor. Were I a man, I would be rejoicing for the survival of my livelihood.

But dear Lord! The complications and problems I have received in trade for those! I would almost have them back again, did I think it would undo this confusion and restore all to its rightful order. I would almost have my lord wed the Lady Olivia, and them both happy. My broken heart would be as nothing to the pain that may—no, must come of this.

For the Lady Olivia loves _me,_ as my lord Orsino loves her, as I, poor monster, love him! What am I to do with this new coil?

I could go to her, I suppose, and tell her I am a woman and her love is misplaced. But then she will tell my lord, and everything will fall apart, for him, for me, for her. I will be utterly ruined. I _am_ ruined, I suppose, but no one knows it yet, so I may put off the inevitable for a while yet. If I tell her, though, everything will fall apart.

I had not given any thought to my future when I embarked upon this disguise. I suppose I thought I could continue to be a man forever. I know now that will not be possible. Even if I did not love my lord, even if the Lady Olivia did not love me, this disguise would fall apart eventually. As soon as my lord wed, if not sooner. I could not pass for long, not with a woman in the house. Sooner or later I would give myself away.

The future... I must think of it now, even if it tightens my chest to think of leaving my lord. I must try to find Sebastian, or try to make contact with our cousins. Perhaps I may even throw myself on the Lady Olivia's mercy... but no. She has seen me now, she knows well who I am. I would have to wait until my hair grew out, and where would I go in the meanwhile?

I will go no more to the Lady Olivia's house unless my lord specifically asks it of me. This is not a very good resolution, I know, for I know well that he _will_ ask me, and I cannot say him nay. I know too, though, that her heart will never be swayed to his. I will speak to him as I may, and ask him if he may not love some other lady, one with a heart a little more willing. It is likely he will not listen to me, but I will at least have tried. What else is there for me to do?

What else _may_ I do? I cannot rule the hearts of others. I cannot leave; though that would solve many problems most handily, it would create more for me, and I would hurt my lord grievously. I cannot starve. I cannot reveal myself. I cannot untangle this knot.

I must only trust in God and my lord's heart.


	4. Act IV

Act IV

"_Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness wherein the pregnant enemy does much."_

-2.2

Another month has passed, and passed quietly. Today, however, the good Lord seems determined to make good a month of nervous waiting by heaping trouble after trouble upon my head until I feel certain I must collapse beneath the weight.

First came that farce of a duel between myself and the Lady Olivia's suitor, Sir Andrew, I believe his name to be. I still do not know what provoked him to challenge me, though I suspect it is the unwanted attentions paid to me by the lady. I know only that I was abused by him and then rescued by a gentleman, called Antonio by those who later arrested him in my lord's name. Yet he claimed to know me, and called me by Sebastian's name! I cannot but rejoice at the thought that I am now mistaken for him. What chance has brought him to Illyria just as I need him most, I cannot say, but if my dear brother is indeed in Illyria, I cannot but rejoice.

I dare not hope for such a circumstance, though. For all that was said, Antonio may have come to Illyria on his own, having left my brother in some far distant land. I fear there is no good Sebastian could do me now, other than to offer me the solace of a brother's love and embrace. For there is more that has happened.

I returned to my lord's household, shaken by Antonio and his claims, and was told immediately to prepare to set out again, as my lord had determined to make a visit to the Lady Olivia in his own person. I could not speak to him and tell him what she had said to me, nor could I warn him of Antonio. And so he was surprised.

My lord is never at his best when he is surprised, and it is no different here. Antonio's capture seemed a fairly pleasant, if unexpected, event, though the gentleman's claims to know me he treated with scorn. I cannot but feel pity for the good Antonio's plight, and the sorrow and anger I read upon his face, but I do not know him! I have told my lord of Antonio's goodwill on my behalf; I can do no more for him. How can I help him when I cannot even help myself?

For Antonio was not the only surprise awaiting my lord, and the others were far from pleasant to his hearing.

I feel even more of a fool than I did before. I knew the Lady Olivia would treat me gently in my lord's sight, and I knew he would not react well. I did not expect him to react _quite_ so violently, but when love spurned comes collapsing down 'round one's ears, when one sees the object of such great love in love with another, what else is there to do? I would have gone with him, would have subjected myself to any tortures for the ease of my lord's heart. The Lady Olivia could have expected nothing else from what I have said to her, made plain to her these past three months. I cannot love her, I will not love her, I would only that she love my lord.

But lo! She calls to me, and calls me husband!

I almost collapsed. I did sit down. What else could I do? I was not her husband, I had never been her husband. I almost believed she lied to keep me with her, though it hurt me to believe such of any of my sex. But that the holy father lied, no, that I could not compass. She had wed me, then—or perhaps, one who _looked_ like me...

But my lord is leaving, has spurned and scorned me, and my heart is breaking. I must go with him, I must. I cannot stay here even to learn just who the Lady Olivia has wed beneath the guise of Cesario, whether it be Viola or Sebastian, or some other altogether. I must follow my lord even when he scorns me, for I, as man or woman, am but his spaniel to be abused as he would. It is all unraveling, and I must bear the burden of my choices and my love.

But soft, who comes here? Sir Andrew? Sir Toby? Abused by _me?_

...Sebastian?


	5. Act V

Act V

"_If nothing lets to make us happy both but this my masculine usurped attire, do not embrace me 'til each circumstance of place, time, fortune do cohere and jump that I am Viola."_

-5.1

I am so happy I can barely breathe. This joy fills my chest and floods my heart, and I can scarce believe that my feet touch the ground. Sebastian is alive and here, Olivia is wed and happy, and my lord and I... but I must begin at the beginning, or I shall never sort this out, even in the darkness of my own mind.

It began when my brother, alive and well, rounded the corner and greeted Lady Olivia as his own wife. I saw none but him, but my lord told me afterwards that he never saw so great an assortment of astonished faces. Sebastian did not notice me at first, instead apologizing for what he had done to Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, and then greeting Antonio as a dear, long-lost friend. In his presence alone he solved all the mysteries that had plagued me for the past few days, though the mystery of his survival remained.

He did not see me until the wonderment of the others drew his eyes to his twin that stood across from him.

I cannot describe my feelings in any detail, nor his that I saw in his eyes. Sebastian had thought me dead; that much was clear in his words and his voice. I had thought never to see him again. What I felt when I once more embraced my brother...!

I must admit to feeling a little apprehensive, even as I rejoiced in my brother's life and affection. After all, he had called me by my true name, and I had admitted that I was Sebastian's _sister,_ Viola and not Cesario as all present had thought me. My lord would never want me now, but then he never would have wanted me as a boy either. My prospects were unchanged, and at least I had my brother back, and a new-found sister, if she would forgive me. I had a place, at least. I had everything I had wanted at the beginning of this mad adventure. I could not help it if my wants had changed somewhat since then.

My lord seemed distracted at first, confused, as well he might. He asked me one or two questions in a distant tone before the question of my good captain and Malvolio intervened. But after, he proved as perceptive as I knew him to be. I shall not say what passed between us, for it is known throughout Illyria. Let it only be said that he loves me, that he knows of my love for him, and that we are to be wed as soon as he and my brother come to an agreement on my dowry.

I cannot help but rejoice!

Not every story touched by mine ended well. I do pity Malvolio, though he well deserved his fate; self-righteousness rarely ends well, and trying to rise above one's station never does. He disguised himself for a time as I did. He simply was not as persuasive or as lucky. And poor Antonio! My heart breaks when I think of him, granted his freedom but denied the friendship he once shared with my brother. The only one of us _not_ in disguise, the poor man.

For we were all wearing borrowed faces, living borrowed lives, though my masquerade was undeniably the most dramatic. My lord lived as the epic tragic lover, Olivia as the ever-constant daughter and sister living forever in seclusion for the death of those who loved her, Malvolio as the well-beloved raised above his station. My brother too disguised himself as Cesario for a time, though unintentionally. Even the hapless Sir Andrew pretended he was something he was not, a wise, learned man worthy of Olivia. I pray he will find a lady to improve him someday, as Sir Toby has in the good Maria, for he is a good man, even if he is not...well.

I sit in the parlor in my brother and sister's home, awaiting my lord, for he promised to visit me today. I am wearing a gown, though skirts still feel strange about my legs, and my chest feels exposed. After all, I am a woman now. I have put off my mask and ended this transformation. But it is not over. I do not think it will ever be over, this joyful, strange, new life.

I am changed. We are all changed. In some ways, I am still Cesario.

I do hope my lord will let me wear breeches when we go riding together. I always hated the lady's saddle.


End file.
